


Salted Caramel

by SwiftieWhovian13



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Alpha - Freeform, Alpha!Steve, F/M, Implied smut (not really) but towards the end, Swearing, a/b/o dynamics, beta, but right now im taking a break so here it is, omega - Freeform, omega!reader, originally posted on my tumblr
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-12
Updated: 2020-07-12
Packaged: 2021-03-04 20:21:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,035
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25222315
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SwiftieWhovian13/pseuds/SwiftieWhovian13
Summary: Steve's an alpha with some bad anger issues. She smells like salted caramel, and he's immediately tamed. Basically a 6K fluff piece with A/B/O dynamics in the mix.Originally posted on my tumblr: https://marvelsswansong.tumblr.com
Relationships: Steve Rogers/Reader, Steve Rogers/You
Comments: 8
Kudos: 155





	Salted Caramel

**Author's Note:**

> Hi everyone!
> 
> Wow I haven't posted a legit writing work on AO3 for a while. I quit because of hate and now I've temporarily quit tumblr because of hate (it's incredible how cruel people will be to you online, huh) so I am nervous about posting here again. But I do miss seeing comments/kudos on here so here it goes :)
> 
> Check out my tumblr for more stories if you liked this one. I'm on a break right now but everything is still accessible through my masterlist and stuffz :) @marvelsswansong
> 
> xoxo,  
> Summer

“Jesus Christ, Steve!” 

The sound of glass shattering rang through the compound, the piercing noise cutting through the monotonous silence and causing Tony to jump up in his seat. It’d been the third time that week that Steve had broken something as a result of his brute strength mixed with his blinding anger, costing Tony and the team fortunes in bandages and repairs. 

“Sorry.” 

Steve’s apology was muttered quietly, with no remorse behind his words, just an automatic reflex that made it clear that he didn’t mean it. Bruce gave Tony a nervous side-eye from behind his book, not wanting to get involved. Tony and Sam were the only ones on the team who had been brave enough to talk back to and challenge Steve the past few months, when Steve’s anger issues were flaring up more than ever. 

“I really don’t feel like buying another 3 inch rimmed glass table, Capsicle.” the billionaire muttered, causing Steve to look up with a murderous glare. 

“I said sorry, Tony.” he spat out Tony’s name like a swear, his fists clenching by his sides. Tony sighed, withholding the urge to roll his eyes and returned his gaze onto his phone. Everyone remembered what had happened the last time Tony had kept on mouthing off to Steve- the broken million dollar vase and the splintered wooden column in the meeting room was a reminder of the violence that had occurred as a result. 

No one commented on the broken glass laying on the floor as the rest of the team trickled in, each of them carefully side stepping from the glass shards as Natasha quietly cleaned up the mess with a broom. They were unanimously worried about Steve, as the “tiny anger problem” he had was becoming persistent and all consuming the past few months. When Steve first went overboard with his anger - killing a target that they were supposed to subdue and take back to New York - Bucky had reassured them all that Steve was probably just near his rut and a little more stressed than usual. The team bought the excuse, with most of them being alphas and understanding the pure rage and hunger that could wash over alphas near their rut.

But no rut made an alpha act this way.

Steve’s eyes were always a stormy blue, dangerous waves crashing in his irises as he choked the life out of his enemies. He’d gotten much more reckless, quick to jump to conclusions, less forgiving. It never went to the point of him hurting civilians or his teammates- but he was quick to be angered and more often than not he was prone to breaking something in the room due to his uncontrollable temper. It’d gotten so bad that Fury had practically commanded Steve into going into anger management therapy a few weeks ago, bi-weekly sessions which resulted in a calm Steve for a day or two before he jumped back to his old habits. 

No one was more worried than Bucky. He was surprised that Steve didn’t strangle Fury yesterday when Fury had slammed his fist down onto the desk and threatened to suspend Steve from missions for a whole month if he “didn’t get his anger in check.” Bucky had to practically wrangle his friend away from the director as Steve stared back with pure hatred and defiance, the anger rolling off of Steve in waves.

“I’m going to the gym.” Steve announced to no one in particular, before disappearing into the elevator. Tony let out a nervous sigh as Steve exited, the atmosphere in the room becoming noticeably more comfortable. 

“I swear, I can’t handle much more of this.” Sam commented, crossing his arms. “Those therapy sessions aren’t working and he clearly doesn’t want to listen to any of us….” 

“Well what else are we supposed to do? I’d really like to avoid another swing at my face or a broken piece of furniture from his super soldier tantrums.” Tony responded nonchalantly, inspecting his empty cup. Natasha hummed in response from the corner, thinking.

“Wanda’s coming back with Thor from their three month mission in Siberia today, aren’t they? Why don’t we ask Wanda? Considering she’s the only omega on the team.” Natasha suggested.

Everyone nodded. They were running out of options, after all. 

* * *

“I hope she’s hot.” 

Tony’s side comment earned him a hard smack from Natasha, one that made Tony pout like a child in response and made Bucky snicker from the back.

“Can you stop being a _ whore _ for two seconds, Stark? (Y/n)’s coming here to help us, not to be your personal escort.” Natasha scolded, shaking her head sideways in exasperation. When Wanda had returned from her mission a few days earlier she recommended that they called in a therapist friend of hers who specialized in anger management. Running out of options and figuring she’d be better than the SHIELD mandated psychologist assigned to Steve, they agreed, even getting Fury’s stamp of approval after he conducted an interview with you over the phone. 

A ding from the elevator disrupted their conversation, the steel doors sliding open to reveal your figure, struggling with a heavy suitcase as you tumbled forward into the entrance. To Wanda’s amusement, as soon as your omega tinted scent filled the air, all the alphas in the room rushed forward to help you, with Natasha elbowing Tony on the side to help you with your suitcase as Bucky, Thor and Sam argued over who should carry your backpack.

“Wanda!” you called out, running over and hugging your friend. She hugged you back tightly, not having seen you for a full year. 

“Thank you so much for coming on such short notice.” Bruce added from the side. He gestured to the bickering alphas in the back and sighed. “Sorry about the rest of the team, they’re so stereotypically alpha it hurts to look at as a beta.” 

You shook his concerns off, a small laugh bubbling in your throat.

“It’s absolutely fine, I’ve had to handle much worse alphas.” 

Steve heard the commotion from a couple of feet away and made a quick mental note to avoid walking towards the front of the living room, not wanting to have to deal with another nagging comment from Tony or a worried glance from Bucky. He knew he looked like a fucking mess today, deep dark circles under his eyes from a lack of sleep and bruises coloring the gaps between his knuckles from his late night gym sessions, but the strong smell of caramel from the downstairs floor was too good to resist.

Figuring Wanda had baked something while he was sleeping, he checked the oven, only to find it completely empty. The sweet smell had grown even stronger as a pair of footsteps started to approach the kitchen, that intoxicating mix of salted caramel and freshly brewed coffee thick enough to cut through the usual mix of alpha and beta scents from his teammates. His nose twitched as he failed to pick up on the other’s scents- Tony’s mix of aftershave and motor oil or Wanda’s mix of morning rain and sunflowers- as all he could smell was that delicious scent floating in the air. 

As you rounded the corner, it finally hit him that he wasn’t smelling some dessert, but that rather the delicious smell was your scent. His senses flared up, and the reaction was immediate upon realization- you were an omega. 

“Oh!” you stopped, taken back by the suddenly large alpha blocking your way. Despite clearly having lost sleep and his skin lacking a bit of color, he still looked incredibly handsome and smelled like home- a blend of wintergreen mint and warm pressed laundry. It was a clean, yet comforting scent, and it drew you in in a way you’d never experienced before. Then your brain started to function and you looked down, reminding yourself that you weren't supposed to gawk at your client that way.

“Who are you?” Steve blurted out, coming off as more hostile than he intended to. 

“This is (Y/n). She specializes in anger management and she’s here as the team’s therapist. She’s here to help you… and the team out.” Bruce announced for you, carefully analyzing Steve’s reaction. 

“Is that okay?” you asked, looking up at him shyly. “I understand this must come as a shock to you, considering I was just hired a few days ago.” 

The team held their breath, fully ready for Steve to throw something or go on a three minute rant about how this was “bullshit” and how “he didn’t need any kind of help.” But to their surprise, he just blinked, opening his mouth then slowly closing it as he nodded emotionlessly. Taking that as a win, you smiled, as Sam wrapped an arm around your shoulder.

“Now, pretty lady, I’m assuming you’re going to need a tour around this place, right?” 

Sam and Thor fought for your attention as Wanda dragged you away, insisting that as your best friend, she should be the one to give you the tour. The alpha boys followed behind them, carrying your bags, leaving Steve with Natasha and Bruce. Natasha bit her lip nervously, trying to gauge Steve’s feelings, before giving up. 

“All right, let me hear it.” she said, surrendering.

“What?" Steve asked, confused. Natasha and Bruce stared at Steve as if he was crazy.

“Aren’t you going to complain about us going behind your back and hiring another therapist?” Natasha questioned.

“Though, I must add, she’s not the overly professional and traditionalist therapist like the one assigned to you by SHIELD a few weeks ago.” Bruce commented. Steve just shrugged, hoping that his teammates couldn’t see just how unnerved and affected he was by just a mere whiff of your scent. His head felt fuzzy and his insides felt warm, the tips of his fingers were tingling. 

“No. I think it’s fine. I…. I need to go finish some mission reports now.” 

Steve excused himself quickly, grabbing a juice bottle from the fridge and scurrying off to his floor without another word. Bruce looked at Natasha with a puzzled expression and Natasha just sighed, glad that the conversation hadn’t ended with something shattered on the floor.

“Guess it’s already working.” 

* * *

Within the first few months, working as the Avengers’ newly assigned team therapist, you quickly became accustomed to everyone. You’d gotten used to the excessive flirting from Sam and Tony, the midnight talks over tea with Bruce, the occasional movie nights with the girls, and a calming therapy session after brutal missions with Bucky. 

The initial nerves that had plagued you when you first started, stemming from the fact that the eternity of the team (minus Bruce, a beta, and Wanda, an omega) were staunch alphas, had quickly disappeared within the first week or so. It hadn’t been particularly the fact that they were alphas that had first scared you, it was rather that in many places in the world, omegas were still seen as second-class to everyone else. Subservient, almost, and many alphas found no problem in degrading and abusing you. Your last boss, despite being a beta, was complacent with the harassment you’d received from your alpha co-workers, claiming that it was “in their blood” to act like that. 

To your delight, however, none of the Avengers treated you like that. They made you feel like part of the team, opening up to you in rare vulnerable moments behind closed doors and welcoming you with open arms. Adjustment was quick, and you also quickly learned to tell when one of them was getting too agitated or on the verge of the nervous breakdown, your omega senses being able to notice the slightest shift in their scents. Being an unclaimed omega with a high sensitivity had been proven to be a gift, and Fury was so satisfied with your work that he had ordered you a raise.

The only mystery you hadn’t been able to solve, however, was the very person you were called in to help.

Steve Rogers. 

He was quiet and distant, except on missions where he barked orders, completed the tasks and returned back home to write up the reports. You were told that he was less violent and less angry than before, a change that you weren’t sure if you could quite take credit for, but it frustrated you to no end that he was clearly trying to distance himself from you. The longest conversation the two of you had lasted just over a few seconds when you’d bid him good night after passing by him in the library late at night and he’d returned the favour, curtly. 

_ ‘Maybe it’s my scent.’ _ you thought. He always seemed distracted whenever you were in the room, quick to finish up whatever he was doing and leaving the room as soon as you entered. Determined to break through to him, you decided to cover up your scent gland the next time you were around Steve. Maybe wearing a suppressant patch would help, make you more approachable by calming your overwhelming scent. You were sure he wouldn’t even notice. 

He definitely did, however. And to make things more complicated, the next time the two of you were in a room together was when all the power in the compound suddenly went out, trapping you and Steve in the gym. Having just walked through the sliding doors, you turned around and tried to force the doors open to no avail.

“That won’t work, (Y/n).” Steve’s voice rang out from the dark. “All the doors here are sensory automated. Won’t open till the power comes back on.” 

As if on cue, Tony’s stressed voice filled the room from the intercom.

“Shit, sorry everyone. Thor fucked up something while doing some stupid bet with Sam over his hammer. I’ll have it back up in about half an hour.” 

You sighed, leaning against the wall. Great.

“Well this should be fun.” you joked, trying to lighten the mood. Steve was silent, however, and from the small ray of moonlight coming from the gaps in the window, you could see Steve’s large figure trembling. 

“Steve?” you whispered, stepping closer. He was clearly scared, his sturdy figure shaking in the darkness as he sunk into the ground. Alarmed, you rushed forward, dropping your gym bag onto the floor. “Are you alright?” 

“I… I fucking hate the dark.” he swore, his words coming out in between shaky breaths. 

“Is it okay if I touch you?” you asked, carefully analyzing his expressions. He nodded, almost fervently, opening up his arms as you sat down onto your knees and shuffled closer towards him. Gently rubbing circles into his arms and counting down slowly, his nose twitched at the sterile smell of your suppressants, discomfort spreading through his veins. 

“What’s wrong?” you asked, stopping your motions upon noticing that he was still shaking. 

“Y-you smell different.” he commented, a hint of disdain in his voice. 

“Yeah, I’m wearing a suppressant patch.” you replied. He bit his lip hard enough to draw blood, his arms tightening around you.

“C-can you take it off? I like your smell.” 

He would’ve never asked you to do so with a sound state of mind but in the dark he just blurted out everything he was feeling, having little regard as to having any barriers up around you. 

Surprised at his admission but flattered, you quickly peeled off the patch from your neck, exposing your scent gland to the open air once more. Steve’s body relaxed instantly at the sweet smell of caramel and coffee filling his nose once more, a happy growl escaping his lips. His hands tugged you closer towards his body, making you sit in between his legs with your head on his chest, but weirdly, the affectionate gesture didn’t bother you. 

“Better?” you questioned quietly, looking up at him. And for the first time in the two months you’d known him, he smiled.

“Much better. I… I know it’s not my place to tell you, but I don’t like it when you wear those suppressant patches.”  _ ‘Or when you’re around other alphas.’ _ he thought, but he kept the last part of his thought a secret. 

“Funny thing is, the whole reason I was wearing them was because I thought you hated my scent.” you commented, concealing an awkward smile. 

Steve froze at your admission, his heart breaking at the notion of that even ever being true. His eyes trailed down to you, his gaze soft.

“How could you ever think that, doll?” 

You shrugged.

“I mean… you always left the room when I entered it. You never wanted to stick around long enough to have genuinely lengthy conversations. After a while I just assumed my scent must be too overwhelming or disgusting for you to handle, so… I made the decision to start wearing those patches whenever you were around.” 

His grip tightened around your frame.

“I’m sorry for being a distant asshole, (Y/n). I just… I didn’t know how to approach you. Everyone in the team was always around you and needed your help and I didn’t want to be another burden.” 

“Hey-” you place a hand on his chin, pulling his face downwards. “You’ll never, never be a burden, okay? You’re allowed to have difficult days, you’re allowed to feel bad and have slumps. You don’t ever have to act tough in front of me, okay?” 

He smiled.

“Okay.” 

The lights came back on at that point and he helped you stand up, his hand warming up your skin with his touch. 

“I promise I’ll be less of a stranger from now on… I’m just… I guess I’m not used to being vulnerable.” 

You pat him lightly on the arm.

“Well you can always be vulnerable with me, old man.”

That elicited a beautiful laugh from his mouth and you laughed along with him, the long standing ice between the two of you finally broken. 

* * *

Steve was visibly nicer and more relaxed the next day, even going as far as to smile and say “good morning” to Tony as he reached into the refrigerator. Tony’s mouth dropped open in surprise, only being able to muster a reply when Sam smacked him back into reality. Sam chose not to comment on his best friend’s sudden change in behaviour, chalking it up to a rare good day. 

Unbeknownst to anyone else on the team, the reason why Steve was in a particularly good mood that day was because a few hours after the lights came back on, you came into his room and read him a book to help him fall asleep. Having alternated between no sleep and 3 hour blocks of sleep for the past few weeks, it was a godsend, your sweet smell filling in the air as your voice dripped honey with each word you spoke. He was knocked out within five minutes, and the room still smelled like you when he woke up. 

He would never say it out loud, but your scent really did something to him. No matter how bad of a mood he was in, the slightest whiff of your scent immediately warmed up his nerves and settled any sort of tension in his stomach. It was addictive and comforting, and he soon was making any excuse to come see you. 

Over the next four months, the team member you spent the most amount of time with was Steve, whether that be because he was asking you to relieve some stress with him in the gym room after midnight or to have a discussion about a recent mission over hot chocolate in the balcony. Steve was nervous that the other members would notice, particularly as he was cutting into other members’ time slots with you, but no one seemed to mind. They all chalked it up as you doing a great job, and if anything, they were glad that the old Steve was starting to return. 

If he was being honest to himself, it wasn’t just some biological pull that had him yearning for your presence everyday. He’d slowly began to crave your presence for your mannerisms, your jokes and your sweet face that lit up with a smile every time you came around. He’d slowly started to push the envelope, too, pushing the boundary between client and therapist everyday, but you never stopped him. It warmed his heart to see that you’d never sit on Tony’s lap or thread your fingers through Bucky’s hair to calm him down, those affectionate gestures were strictly reserved for him.

Steve even suspected that maybe it was because you liked him back. An absurd thought, but a small part of him could hope. Though he was continuously oblivious, you felt the same way, unconsciously but unquestionably stretching the rules to be a bit closer to Steve. To feel his skin on yours, to breathe in his unique scent every night. Technically constant skin contact wasn’t necessary for your form of therapy but you could never resist it when he asked you, his baby blue eyes cutting through the dark, glimmering with hope. You figured it wasn’t that big of a deal- you were still being professional, after all, you were still helping Steve- until  **that question** was dropped on you.

Steve had texted you on the plane ride back home that the mission had been brutal, with a few civilian casualties on the line. Two of them kids, he said. The moment he was off the plane he opened his arms and you jumped into his embrace, your arms locking around his neck and your legs tightening around his waist as he breathed in your familiar scent. As he carried you away into his room, the rest of the team gawked at the sight, not used to seeing Steve ever be so affectionate or carefree after a brutal mission. Ever. 

A few hours later and a heated discussion between the team members in secret in the living room that could be heard from three floors down, Sharon confronted you with  **that question** while you were looking at something in the library. Sharon was a beta who came and went through the compound, and every time she was around Wanda insisted that she didn’t like you. You brushed off Wanda’s concerns, but Wanda was adamant, claiming that Sharon was clearly infatuated with Steve and that she didn’t enjoy seeing you be so close to Steve all the time. 

“Are you dating Steve?” Sharon asked suddenly, her tone hostile. You laughed nervously, her glare burning holes into your head. 

“No, why would you think that?” 

She raised her eyebrows at your comment, not buying into your naivety. 

“Really? I heard that you jumped into his arms after his mission tonight. And do you really think no one has noticed how much one-on-one time you’ve been spending with Steve.” she spat out, tapping her feet on the floor. 

Your eyes widened at her accusation, you had no idea that people were perceiving you and Steve that way. 

“No, I mean… we haven’t done anything, gosh. He’s just… a needy client. And as a therapist, it’s my job to make sure he’s emotionally stable and happy. He just requires more affection and time than others.”

She rolled her eyes at your response. 

“Really? Well how come I don’t see you jumping into Bucky’s arms or reading Thor bedtime stories?” Sharon pressed. You opened your mouth to argue then closed it, realization dawning upon you. “Not to mention that if you’re really not dating him, that means you’re violating the therapist-client professionalism rules embedded into your contract, aren’t you?” 

The sudden threat of possibly being fired dawned on you at that moment, a possibility that hadn’t crossed your mind until Sharon had brought it up. 

“I… I guess you’re right. I don’t want to lose my job.” you trailed off, unsure. You loved working here and considering you’d been fired for doing far less as an omega, you didn’t want to risk it. Sharon’s gaze suddenly turned sympathetic, as she rested her hand on your shoulder.

“Hey, I’m just saying. I’m not going to tell you how to do your job, but there are talks going around the tower that you might get fired for unprofessionalism if you continue.” 

Thanking Sharon for her honesty, you quickly rushed out of the library and marched up to Steve’s floor and knocked on the door, every passing moment heightening your anxiety. He opened the door with one swift movement, and his smile brightened at the sight of you.

“Oh (Y/n), hi-”

“Steve, I’m so sorry.” 

His smile dropped, confusion creeping onto his face at your sudden apology. 

“For what?” 

“We can’t keep doing all… this-” you gestured to the gap between the two of you. “It’s not professional and I should’ve stopped it at the beginning but I didn’t, and now people think we’re dating and… it’s all a mess. I-I mean, I could’ve been fired. I shouldn’t have jumped into your arms today, um, it’s not professional as your therapist, I’m sorry.” you rambled, avoiding his gaze. 

Steve nervously swallowed, his chest starting to feel heavy at your rant.

“N-no, I… It’s my fault, too. I was the one who started this whole thing from that day when the power went out in the gym. I… I pressured you into giving in and acting unprofessionally.” he added quietly, forcing the words out his mouth. You relaxed at his response, a small smile on your face.

“Great, so… I mean, obviously you can still come to me and we can still talk but I can’t give you any more special treatment. You… you understand, right?” 

The words tasted bitter in his mouth, but he forced it out anyways.

“Right.” 

“Great… Still friends though, right? You’re not going to disappear on me?” you teased quietly, punching him lightly on the shoulder. Steve ignored the pang in his heart and gave you a pained smile, nodding.

“Still friends.” 

* * *

Steve’s personality did a full 180 overnight. Granted, he didn’t go back to his temperamental, object throwing, aggressive past self. Instead, he was visibly sulky, dragging his feet around on the floor and forcing smiles and kind comments throughout the day. No one knew why- FRIDAY had told them that Steve was still regularly meeting up with you for therapy sessions- and you distracted yourself from paying too much attention to Steve, filling up your time with other clients and burying yourself in more reading. Even Fury had raised his eyebrow when you’d appeared at his office and asked for more work, a curious look on his face as he handed a dozen folders over to you. 

You didn’t have the guts to admit to him or to yourself that you were doing all this to distract from the pit in your stomach from missing Steve, of missing the cuddle sessions in his bed as he talked his feelings out, of missing the calm, weirdly domestic midnight baking in the kitchen between just the two of you. The hot embarrassment of your previous unprofessionalism paired with your guilt for missing those moments forced you to bury yourself further into your work, even going as to keep your questions strictly professional and brief during every session you had with Steve. 

That said, outside of those sessions, you tried to be friendly and tried to rekindle the comfortable friendship between the two of you, but he was back to being cold, distant and quiet. And it hurt you more than you would like to admit.

“Are you okay, sunshine?” Wanda asked carefully, noticing that you were more quiet than usual. Her question broke you out of your worried thoughts and you flashed her a quick smile, shrugging off her worries.

“Y-yeah, Wanda. I’m fine.” 

Steve was doing no better, beating the fifth punching bag of the night. His knuckles were already sore and bleeding from the repeated impact of his skin onto the bag, but he had no intention of stopping. He hated himself for falling for you, when it could never be, he hated that he didn’t have the fucking balls to just go up to you and say he wanted to claim you. He’d also recently started to notice that your scent was starting to be clouded by the others’ scents as you spent more time with the team, and he fucking hated it. 

He was so close to losing it, and Sharon’s excessive flirting wasn’t making it any better. He only had eyes for you, after all. A few more punches to the bag and it fell with a heavy bang onto the floor, the stuffing on the inside spilling out from the final brutal punch he’d landed onto the bag. Breathing heavily, he decided to call it a day, and head downstairs for breakfast. 

“Bucky, jesus, stop it-” 

The sound of your giggle rang through the floor as Steve stepped off the elevator, your scent suddenly fragrant and intoxicating from the pure joy you were experiencing. But it wasn’t just salted caramel and coffee, it was mixed with… something else. Leather and burnt wood? He rounded the corner to see you being chased by Bucky, him shirtless and you wearing Bucky’s shirt, explaining the mix of scents. 

And all Steve could see was red.

All the anger management therapy and the progress he made went out the fucking window at the sight of his best friend clearly having had sex with his girl, with her even wearing his shirt afterwards, and Steve was marching up to Bucky with no second thought.

“Oh hey Stevie, what’s up-” Bucky managed to dodge the swing thrown at him at the last second, Steve’s steely gaze unwavering as he tried to land another punch on his best friend. All he could think about was the fact that Bucky KNEW how he felt about you, Bucky KNEW how crazy he was about you, and Bucky had gone behind his back and fucked you. 

“FUCKING HELL, STEVE, WHAT THE FUCK IS YOUR PROBLEM-” Bucky yelled, blocking another punch, only to be kneed in the stomach. You ran in between the two of them as Steve let out a sinister chuckle, his growl unnerving and deep.

“Don’t act so innocent, Bucky.” 

“STOP IT, STEVE.” you yelled, holding your arms in front. Steve gave you a murderous glance.

“Don’t act so innocent either, (Y/n). I thought you said you couldn’t compromise your professionalism? Guess that doesn’t apply to Bucky, huh?” 

“Steve what the fuck are you talking about?” you asked, exasperated. 

“You fucked Bucky, you’re wearing his shirt-” 

You cut him off with a frustrated sigh, throwing your hands up in the air.

“Jesus christ, Steve! We didn’t fuck. Sam and Bucky were having another prank war and he accidentally mixed up my shirt load with Sam’s and ended up shrinking all of MY shirts. So I stole his shirt until he could get me some new ones with Tony’s credit card.” you explained, frustrated tears welling up in your eyes. All of Steve’s anger dissipated in that moment, dread and guilt filling his core at your confession. You let out a broken laugh, your heart bubbling with frustration. 

“I- I really can’t fucking get you, Steve. First you never want to talk to me, then we get close, then we agree to be professional and now you’re back to being cold and anger-prone, even going as far as to try to PUNCH your best friend? Fuckin hell, Steve. Don’t I deserve more respect than that, at the very least? As your FRIEND? As the team THERAPIST? I swear, it’s like you WANT me to quit.” you stormed off with that, not sparing Steve another glance before disappearing into the elevator. 

Steve stared after you, the sensation of guilt punching his stomach as Bucky slowly stood up. Steve looked like a puppy who’d been kicked, and Bucky felt a little sorry for his best friend. After all, Steve had gotten the impression that Bucky had gone behind his back and had sex with you.

“Buck, I-”

Bucky shook his head sideways, a small smile on his face.

“Nah, no need. Alpha hormones and anger never did work out for you… The person you need to apologize to is (Y/n), not me. She’s the best thing to happen to you AND this team. Don’t let her get away. No more running, no more excuses.”

He places a hand on Steve’s shoulder and smiles.

“Let yourself be happy for once.” 

* * *

There’s a hesitant knock on your door as you’re mid-packing your suitcase, hot shame, anger and sadness mixing in your chest.

“(Y/n)-” 

You ignore Steve’s please to open the door and continue to pack, not wanting to hear his excuse. You tell yourself repeatedly that you’re not going to crumble, you’re not going to open the door, and then he calls out to you.

“ _ Omega _ , please.” 

You bite your lip, resisting the pull. But your body moves before your brain does and you find yourself opening the door, revealing Steve standing there with slouched shoulders and a guilty expression on his face. His mouth opens to blurt out an apology but he’s lost for words when he sees the mess of fabric behind you, and his mouth runs dry.

“You’re… you were serious about quitting?”

You clench your jaw and cross your arms, your anger still unwavering.

“Yeah. What other options do I have left when you won’t treat me like the others?” 

He’s silent for a moment before he responds.

“You’re right. I don’t treat you like the others. Because I don’t think of you like the others.”

That just makes you angrier.

“Why? Because I’m an omega? An unclaimed omega, unlike Wanda who’s claimed by Vision?” you challenge, insulted. His eyes widen at your response and he’s quick to shoot you down.

“No, no, I mean- fuck. I’m just going to come out and say it. I’m crazy about you, doll. You have me in the palm of your hands and I wouldn’t have it any other way. Your scent, fuck, it drives me crazy and the thought of you with another alpha makes my skin crawl-” he starts, stepping closer. 

You stop him mid-talk and place your hand on his chest, lightly pushing him away.

“How do you know it’s not just your biological senses kicking in? You’re a lonely alpha, Steve. This could just be your biological side talking.” 

“It’s not.” he interrupts you, his voice clear with conviction. “It’s not because there’s plenty of unclaimed omegas in this tower. But none of them compare to your… your wit, your heart, your beauty…” He pushes you up against the wall, and scents you again. “And your fucking scent, jesus.” 

Your resolve crumbles in his hands and you smile shyly.

“Promise it’s not just the alpha in you talking?”

He smiles back.

“Promise. Just Steve Rogers. The same lonely kid who doesn’t know how to process his emotions and ask pretty girls out.” 

“Okay, good.” you respond, giggling. 

“I like you so fucking much, omega, it’s kind of scary.” he admits to himself, whispering his confession onto your skin. Your smile widens.

“Then I guess I won’t be quitting,  _ alpha _ .” you respond softly. He nods eagerly and presses his lips onto yours, his hands immediately moving to grab at your waist. He’s delighted to find out that you taste as sweet as you smell, your lipgloss carrying an underlying cherry taste that’s tarte and tasty on his tongue. 

“Claim me.” you whisper against his lips and he smiles. 

“Of course. But first-” he rips the shirt off of your body, causing you to squeal at the sudden force. “Need that fucking shirt off of you. Can’t stand smelling Bucky’s scent on you.” 

“You’re mine.” he aggressively growls. Then his eyes soften and he stares into your eyes, looking for a confirmation. “You’re mine, right?” The question is half-hesitant and he’s scared, scared that you’re going to reject him. But you just kiss him softly and nod, smiling.

**“Yours.”**

**Author's Note:**

> If you liked it, please consider giving kudos and/or leaving a comment! 
> 
> Lots of love. Hope you guys are staying safe.
> 
> xoxo,  
> Summer


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